


Pick-Up

by Zordosia (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abortion, Abortion Clinic Protestors Being Terrible Human Beings, Crushes, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:06:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8119186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Zordosia
Summary: Her father was a senator, he couldn’t be seen there. And he tells her that John’s in trouble, John needs her to do this, the family’s in trouble, they all need her to do this. And Marta Laurens had been told from birth that there was nothing more important than protecting her family. And so she went.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For clarity, I changed Martha Laurens Ramsay's name to Marta.

Her father was a senator, he couldn’t be seen there. And he tells her that John’s in trouble, John needs her to do this, the family’s in trouble, they all need her to do this. And Marta Laurens had been told from birth that there was nothing more important than protecting her family. And so she went.

Henry had told her there would be protestors. He told her to wear things that covered her face. He had sent her off in a rental car, an SUV with tinted windows. Marta should have inferred, from that, what it would be like. But she imagines that nothing could have really prepared her for the experience of walking towards the Planned Parenthood while protestors surround her, screaming into megaphones and waving bloody pictures. They have big, photographer’s cameras too. She thinks bitterly that a phone camera would suffice, that it’s a little superfluous, maybe they could spend the money they save on some better haircuts. The noise grows and grows as she gets closer to the door, she can’t tell for sure but it feels like they’re getting closer and closer to her, Marta thinks that if one of them touches her she’ll pass out. Her ears are ringing and her vision is spotty as the door closes behind her.

The waiting room is half full. Some of the women are dressed like her. Mostly the ones with cashmere pashminas and Gucci sunglasses. It takes Marta a minute to find Martha Manning at first, because she’s hunched over, face obscured, clutching her stomach. Marta must look terrified as she walks towards her because the receptionist speaks up. “Stomach pain after the procedure is normal,” she says. She’s trying to be as quiet as possible, but some of the people in the waiting room still flinch. “She’ll be fine in a few hours.”

Martha looks up at that. She looks surprised to see Marta, but not unhappy. They don’t know each other really well, Martha’s John’s age, she just graduated, and Marta’s a junior, they never really floated in the same circles. But they’re both pretty popular, they both said hi to each other in the halls, they’ve made small talk at parties or when Martha was waiting for John to come downstairs and take her on a date or to prom or whatever. Marta figures she’s just the right amount of acquaintance for this to not be awkward, but also to never be spoken of again. She puts on the best version of a smile she can do and looks back at Martha.

She’s wearing a tank top and jeans. She has short natural hair, nothing to curtain her face with. Henry clearly didn’t bother to warn her about the protestors. She starts to take off her hoodie, but Martha shakes her head quickly. “You’re the senator’s daughter,” she says. “And they’ve already seen me.”

She right. Marta feels her throat tighten a bit. She pulls the hoodie back up around her head.

They stand at the door together a minute before they step out. Marta can feel the eyes of the receptionist and the women in the waiting room on them. It doesn’t feel bad, though. They’re all going to be at the door in a few hours. Everyone wants to see them do well.

Martha grabs her hand. Marta feels her throat tighten again, but it’s in a different way this time.

They step out into the gauntlet. The protestors start screaming immediately. Marta wraps her right arm around Martha and shields her face with her hand as she hears shutter clicks start to go off. They’re chanting “murderer!” this time. Marta feels her right hand get damp. They make it to the car. Through the tinted glass, Marta sees a camera aimed at her license plates. So that’s why dad got a rental.

When they pull out of the parking lot, Martha breaks into full-on sobs. Marta puts her hand on her back but her adrenaline is still pumping and no comforting words are coming to her, she just has to put as much distance between them and the protestors as possible right now. She tells herself that it’s the best thing for both of them, and she might be right.

When she merges onto the highway she settles down into a bone-tired state. She looks over at her hand- it’s clenched into a claw pulling at Martha’s shirt. Marta cringes. Martha’s stopped crying though. Marta waits. The comforting words are not coming to mind.

“Why isn’t John here,” Marta finally asks. She thinks about what it was like to walk that gauntlet alone, when she wasn’t even the one getting the abortion. She thinks of how much easier it would have been to have her big, jock brother as a bodyguard, instead of casual yoga participant Marta.

“He’s probably in New York,” Martha says. “I don’t know if he knew it was today.” Her expression changes after she says that, and she glances over at Marta.

Marta knows why. Her father told his children that everyone was a potential anonymous source, that their teachers, their friends’ parents, their friends, would all jump on any sign of Laurens family discord and sell it to the highest bidder. Each of them is a guardian of the Laurens family reputation and prosperity. They have to have each others’ backs. Marta takes that responsibility seriously. John does too.

She looks back at Martha. She’s doubled over nearly in half, her arms around her stomach, her head resting on the dashboard, her eyes closed. “John can be a dick sometimes,” she says. It doesn’t really count as betraying the family, because there is nothing else she could say that would be remotely believable right then.

Martha twists her head around and gives her a little side smile, and that smile seems worth a dent in the Laurens brand.

“Did you know?” Martha asks her, after a few minutes of silence.

“No,” Marta says. And then, half because she doesn’t usually get to talk to people about this, and half because she wants to make her smile again, she adds “Dad and John never tell me anything important.” Martha snorts and gives her that side smile. Marta turns to her and smiles back. They both break into giggles. Marta stays like for an irresponsibly long time, considering she’s driving on the interstate and neither of them are looking at the road. A car honks, she swears, Martha give one final big laugh before wincing. Marta turns bright red and turns on the radio.

They listen to Top 40, switching between channels with a groan whenever an song one of them hates comes on. The nearest clinic was a few hours away, and Martha drifts off at some point. Marta turns the music down and glances at her phone. Her dad has sent her five status update requests. She ignores them.

She squeezes Martha’s shoulder gently when she pulls up to her house, but she still wakes with a start. She looks around, blinking, and when she spots her house, her entire body slackens. Her smile is big and wide this time. “Thanks,” Martha says to her. “For picking me up, and, you know-“ she gestures between them and suddenly Marta can’t quite meet her eyes.

“Anytime,” she says. She walks her to the door. Martha is shivering in the cold fall air, in her tank top and jeans. It’s a ridiculous and pointless gesture, she knows, but Marta gives her the hoodie.

**Author's Note:**

> Abortion clinic protestors are the worst, y'all.
> 
> I'm at theoroark on tumblr if you want to reach me there.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and any comments or kudos would make my day!


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